


Doomworld's Test

by Murreleteer



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Brainwashing, Crying, Episode AU: s02e16 Doomworld, Face-Fucking, Gags, Hair-pulling, Hopeful Ending, Immobility, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Non-Consensual Bondage, Potential Forgiveness, Rescue Missions, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murreleteer/pseuds/Murreleteer
Summary: Ray Palmer is just a janitor, and he doesn't understand why he's been called up to Mr. Thawne's office. It turns out that Mr. Thawne and his friends want to test the loyalty of one Mick Rory, and they're using Ray to do it.





	Doomworld's Test

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wearestardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearestardust/gifts).



> This story contains graphic rape, including anal and oral sex, bondage, gagging, threat of gang rape, and voyeurism. Ray spends most of this fic not knowing who Mick is, or why this is happening. There is understanding but not a hell of a lot of comfort by the end. Please do not read it if that's not your thing.
> 
> Takes place in an AU of 2x16 "Doomworld" wherein Mick and Rip connected before any of the others did.

Ray had his routine down pretty well. He worked the evening shift on the lab floor and attached toilets and showers five days a week. If personnel needed a fill in, he sometimes did days in the cafeteria. He'd never been above the second floor other than once to go to HR when he'd been hired. So it was definitely weird to be summoned to Mr. Thawne's office on the sixth floor, but who knew, maybe his personal gold-plated toilet was overflowing. No, that wasn't right. Mr. Thawne was too classy to have a gold toilet, it would be ultra high tech and internally-recycling toilet, like on the _I.S.S._. It probably had its own mop, too, because they told Ray not to bring his.

When he got up there, and a guard had to card him in and out of the elevator, Mr. Thawne was in his office, which Ray hadn't been expecting, but he guessed that inventing all those things and saving the world meant you had to stay late. He was sitting behind a big desk that Ray assumed cost a lot. There were two other men by the windows, one fair haired and the other brunet, both solid and dangerous looking. Ray hadn't seen them before, but felt somehow that he knew they were dangerous. Though wasn't the fair one the mayor of Starling City? Which meant that the physical fear Ray felt made no sense, and Ray didn't know why he thought that. Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he saw two beautiful women in low-cut shirts leaning against the back wall.

"Um," Ray said. He really didn't think it was likely that he needed to clean anything; it all looked pretty shiny. But why else would he be up here? Surely if he was fired, whoever had hired him would deal with it, unless he was being fired in a really bad way. Had they found out about the missing parts? Whatever the two women were special firing professionals? They looked mean. "So can I help you, sir? Sirs? And ma'ams?"

The fair-haired man rolled his eyes, and the brunet sighed loud enough for Ray to hear from by the door, but Mr. Thawne said, "Yes, Mr. Palmer, you can definitely help us."

"Great," Ray said. So he probably wasn't fired after all. That was good; he sure needed the money. He smiled hopefully at Mr. Thawne and wondered how he knew Ray's name. "Anything you like."

For some reason that made Mr. Thawne smile. "You see, Malcolm," he said, "my staff is very accommodating."

Malcolm, the dark haired one, answered, "Well you know what I think would be the smart thing to do. I just hope I'm here to say, 'I told you so!' when it all blows up in your face. Yours too, Darhk," he added with a pointed look at the women. The blonde one bit her thumb at him. "And you won't be able to say I didn't warn you."

"We'll see," Darhk answered. He didn't sound bothered by whatever Malcolm's dire prediction was. In fact, it seemed more like an old, friendly argument, like Ray saw between couples on TV or buddies in the coffee shop. Ray wished he had a buddy like that.

"Mr. Palmer," Mr. Thawne said, pulling Ray's attention back.

"Yes, sir?" Ray really was starting to wonder what was up. It seemed more like they were waiting for something than they wanted him to do anything.

"Take your clothes off." Mr. Thawne's words were even and uninflected, like he was telling Ray he'd missed a spot mopping.

"Pardon me?" Ray said. He hadn't heard that right.

"Take your clothes off, Mr. Palmer," Mr. Thawne said again, but this time his tone had an edge to it, and Ray knew he couldn't have misheard.

"But..." he started to say, but he really needed this job, so he shut up and started to unzip his coveralls. He let the top fall around his hips, and took his hat off then pulled his undershirt over his head. He stood awkwardly with the clothes in his hands, not sure where to put them down.

Darhk's eyes slid to one of the women, who came and took the shirt and hat from Ray, and then didn't leave. The other one followed in her wake, and then they were standing on either side of him. He should have felt protected, but he was afraid. What was happening?

"Um," he said. The office was cold, making his nipples harden and goosebumps run down his arms. "All my clothes?"

"Yes," Mr. Thawne said, sounding annoyed, and Ray flinched away. Mr. Thawne had done so much good in the world, and given Ray a job when no one else would hire a loser like him, but something in his eyes still scared Ray. "All your clothes. Any time now."

This felt so wrong, but Ray didn't see how he could get out of it. It was probably some joke, or a way of showing the other men how much power Mr. Thawne had over his employees, which was cruel but not inaccurate. Ray kicked out of his shoes and shoved his coveralls and shorts down to his ankles before stepping out of them. The woman picked those up too then threw them shoes and all into the trash.

"Hey!" Ray said despite himself. He knew his uniform would come out of his salary if anything happened to it, and he really couldn't afford new shoes. God, he was standing naked in front of the man who owned half of Central City, and all he could think of was shoes. Ray's cock was cold, and he wanted this all to be the worst dream he'd ever had.

"Oh, that is the least of your worries," the woman said, smirking.

"Ladies," Darhk said, which must have meant something, because they each took one of Ray's elbows, their leather gloves warm against his skin, and led him back to the corner they'd been lounging in. 

There was a sort of bench there. Or Ray guessed it was a bench. It looked a bit like a motorcycle without the motorcycle part, and more straps. He worked out what it was for about the same time the two women, who were way stronger than they looked, tossed him onto it like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey!" he said again. "What's going on here?"

"I see having your brain scrambled hasn't changed you," Darhk commented, which didn't make a hell of a lot of sense to Ray, but the tone was pretty clear. He tried to push himself up, but one of the women pushed him flat onto the bench while the other one buckled one of the straps around his neck, holding him in place. They each took an arm next, cuffing his hands to the sides. The straps were all supple leather, and didn't hurt when Ray yanked against them. They didn't give, either.

Malcolm pushed off the window and said, "You're about to be raped, Palmer, probably by all of us, plus guests. Now, I wanted to just kill you, but no around here listens to me until it's too late."

"Kill me?" Ray squeaked, at the same time as the women each took a leg pulled it up and forward, so that his ass was lifted up and sticking out off the end of the bench, his cock dangling free. They bent his legs and strapped his ankles and thighs into place in high stirrups. The bench was wide enough that he was stretched out, and with his legs forward, he could feel the cool air on his hole. The women stepped back into the shadows in the corner. "Raped?" Ray asked in a softer tone. All any of them would have to do was step up behind him. He was tied down and spread wide, and there was nothing he could do. "This isn't right," he said. "There's been some mistake. I don't even know any of you."

That made the men laugh for some reason. "That's the best part," Mr. Thawne said. He came over to where Ray was lying strapped on his stomach and ran his hand through Ray's hair. He was a little too rough, and it tugged. Ray wanted to pull away, but the neck strap held his head in place. Mr. Thawne took another step in, and Ray realized that he was vulnerable in another way too when the front of Mr. Thawne's pants rubbed against Ray's nose. "Should we draw straws?" he asked, and Ray shuddered.

The padded leather bench wasn't uncomfortable, and aside from his legs being spread too wide the position wasn't either. Ray could lie here for a long time without his body hurting. It would almost be nice except that he could picture all too well what was going to happen next. "Please," he said. "I don't want this. This isn't right. Please stop."

Mr. Thawne didn't even answer. He stroked Ray's hair again, and then ran his hand down Ray's back and over his ass. Ray clenched and tried to flinch away, assuming that Mr. Thawne was going to stick his fingers in him or grab his balls, but he just held his hand on Ray's ass.

"I thought we were waiting for Snart," Darhk said.

Snart was a bank robber, Ray'd heard, though there was something strange about him and how that worked in Central City.

"So we are," Mr. Thawne agreed. He patted Ray's butt and pulled away.

The elevator doors opened a moment later, and two more men came in, one lean and sharp, the other hulking with a shaved head. Ray groaned. How many were there going to be? Were they all going to rape him? "Help me!" he shouted, knowing it was a vain hope, but needing to try.

"Oh," the shorter man said, lip curling. That was Snart; Ray recognized him from the news. He didn't sound very happy to see Ray, but he didn't move to help either. "Look, Mick, they brought you a friend."

Mick's eyes flicked over to Ray for the briefest second before he looked at Mr. Thawne. "Didn't know this little powwow came with its own entertainment," he said.

Mr. Thawne shrugged. "We try to be accommodating."

There was a tension in the air that Ray didn't get. Something between Mick and the other men, even his partner. Ray twisted his head as much as he could to get a better look at Mick. He was a tall man with a face that had taken a lot of punches over the years. but which Ray couldn't help finding oddly attractive. He could love that face, if it didn't make him so angry. He didn't know why he thought that either. These people were confusing him, and he was afraid.

Snart leaned against the door jamb and folded his arms. "How long is this going to take?"

"Until everyone is satisfied," Malcolm said. He was standing in the middle of the room now, and Ray realized that all five of them had spread out, so that no one made an easy target.

"Satisfied," Snart said, sarcasm dripping from the word. "I'll pass. Not my game."

Were they really going to argue over not only who got to violate Ray first, but who even wanted to? What was the test? Ray wanted to ask, but he also really, really didn't want anyone to remember he was there.

"We're not worried about you," Malcolm said. They were all looking at Mick, who was looking out the window.

"What?" Mick asked, as the silence stretched. He pulled a battered metal lighter out of his pocket and flicked it open, glancing down at the flame for a little too long before closing it. "I got bored and stopped listening."

"They're testing you, Mick," Snart said. He sounded bored with the whole concept, but he didn't object. "You keep disappearing, wandering off and not telling me where you've gone. Now they want to know if your loyalties lie elsewhere, or if you're still in all the way."

Darhk snorted. "I wouldn't have put it exactly like that."

"It's a little on the nose," Malcolm agreed.

"Nevertheless," Mr. Thawne said.

"You want me to fuck the kid," Mick said bluntly.

"Oh, we're all fucking the kid," Malcolm said. They were all talking so lightly, like Ray was the last piece of pizza not a human being strapped down with his ass in the air. "We just want you to go first."

"If you don't," Mr. Thawne added, just as lightly, but now Ray could pick up the menace under everything he said, "We'll shoot you, and fuck the kid on our own."

Mick sighed and jammed the lighter back in his pocket. He reached for his belt buckle. "This is a waste of time," he grumbled.

"Oh God," Ray said. This was really going to happen. How could this be happening? He struggled against the bonds, but none of them had the least give and he was held completely immobile. "Please," he said. He'd thought Mick looked like he could be kind, maybe he could be merciful too. "Please, your name's Mick, right? I'm Ray, Ray Palmer. I'm just a janitor. I'm no one. I haven't done anything wrong. Okay, I borrowed some parts from the lab, but I put them back. I'll apologize. Mr. Thawne can fire me. Please fire me."

The rest of the people in the room had fallen silent, watching with interest, and Ray knew there was no help there. Mick was his only chance.

Mick's belt buckle dangled right next to Ray's nose, but he hadn't opened his fly. Maybe Ray's pleas were getting through. Mick dropped into a crouch in front of Ray so that he could look him in the eye. Their faces were inches apart. His expression was searching, and he studied Ray's face for a long time. Ray held his breath, hoping that something inside this man would feel pity. Mick lifted his hand and cupped Ray's jaw, running a gloved thumb across his lips. The gesture felt familiar, and Ray didn't know why he wanted to kiss Mick's hand. Mick's mouth tightened then, and he jerked his chin up just a little. His hand fell away from Ray's face.

Ray knew that he'd lost. That was the moment that he felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to sting. He blinked hard, but it didn't help.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Ray asked. He knew that he was pathetic, and that his eyes were wet with tears, but he didn't know what else to do. "Please. I don't even know any of you."

Mick's lips twisted down, and for the briefest second he looked like he felt sad, or maybe even guilty, and Ray thought he might be able to hope. Mick said, "Not knowing you is the point, Haircut," and stood. His hands worked at his fly, and he shoved his pants open and his shorts down just enough to get his cock out. It was still soft, but he worked it roughly just in front of Ray's nose, and it started to harden.

Ray swallowed, his throat rubbing against the leather collar. He'd never done it with another guy, not even made out with one, though he'd wanted to in school. He'd just never had the guts, no matter how much gay porn he'd watched through his fingers. He didn't know how to do this, and he didn't want to find out like this either. Mick's cock filled his hands, its broad uncut tip extending towards Ray's face as he pulled himself off. It was bright against the black leather of Mick's gloves, and Ray couldn't look away. Ray knew there was no chance of escape, not anymore, but he couldn't give up; he started screaming for help as loud as he could, not begging Mick any more, but pleading to anyone who could hear.

His words choked off abruptly as Mick grabbed his hair and thrust forward into his mouth. Ray almost bit down, but was too scared. Mick's cock filled his mouth and stretched his jaw, and he wasn't even half inside Ray. The thicker head pushed down on Ray's tongue and filled his mouth with a musky, sour taste. Mick's fingers still circled the base of his cock, keeping him from driving further in. His other hand tightened in Ray's hair until Ray's eyes stung, holding his head absolutely steady.

"Hold still," Mick said gruffly, like Ray could move or had any choice at all. Ray was trying not to move his tongue, not wanting to taste, but his mouth had gone dry, and he couldn't help it. He tried to swallow, which only made the taste stronger. Mick's gloves smelled like acetylene and black powder, and Ray knew he'd never get that smell out of his head now. He'd never forget lying tied down, naked and exposed under the eyes of so many people while a stranger just held his dick in Ray's mouth. Mick grunted as Ray moved his tongue again, and rocked his hips forward just a little. The tip of his cock hit the back of Ray's mouth, just short of choking him. "Suck me," he said, voice even lower and rougher than before.

Ray wasn't going to give the bastard what he wanted. He stayed limply in place. If Mick wanted to fuck his face, he was going have to do the work himself. He knew that this was just the first round of an unending night, and that it would go easier for him if he did as they asked, but he found he didn't have surrender in him. He glared up at Mick and wished he could spit at him. He wished he didn't have tears in his eyes. He'd look braver if he wasn't crying.

Mick saw something in his look that made him yank hard enough on Ray's hair to make him gasp, and said, "If you bite, I'll have Blondie here pull your teeth out."

"I don't work for you," Blondie said contemptuously, at the same time as Darhk said, "That could happen," in a speculative tone.

Ray got the point, and closed his eyes in acknowledgement. He wasn't going to be able to fight this. He never seemed to be able to fight everything. His whole life had been one long string of bullying and helplessness, and it was little wonder he'd ended up here. There had to be something about him that made everyone see what a mark he was.

Mick pulled out a little, then nudged forward again, rocking slightly in and out of Ray's mouth. His grip on Ray's hair didn't slacken, and the pain in his scalp matched the pain of holding his jaw open too wide. Ray wished he could flex his jaw or move at all to get the growing cramps out of his limbs, but too much of his body was bound in place, and he was afraid of what Mick would do to him if Ray accidentally scrapped his cock with his teeth. He held deathly still instead, and endured Mick fucking his face. He should probably be grateful it was this gentle. Mick could just as easily jam his cock all the way down Ray's throat.

Ray moaned in despair, and the vibration of it made Mick grunt and thrust just a little too far, making Ray almost choke around him. Pain and humiliation of it burned through him already, and they'd barely gotten started.

God, he had this man's cock in his mouth, and he didn't even know why. Was it just that they picked a random staff member to rape every week, or had he done something to provoke this? They must have found out about his theft, and this was the punishment.

Ray struggled not to cough or to bite down, but his couldn't control his reflexes, and his throat convulsed around Mick, making his grip tighten in Ray's hair. Ray whimpered at the pain burning through his scalp, and Mick grunted again. Ray realized that he hated most of all that his reactions were making this bastard feel good. If he couldn't fight back, he should lie still and empty and not provide the satisfaction of a futile struggle. But how did a man stop himself from choking? Mick pushed in again, and again Ray choked on it. Mick's cock hadn't looked this big before, but it seemed impossible to take it in. His jaw ached from the stretch, and Ray couldn't breathe.

He wished Mick would just hurry up and get it over with, except that when he did, the others would take their turns. They would each fuck him until there was nothing left of Ray, not that there'd been a lot to start with. He hated how afraid he was, and how he knew that he would be stupidly easy to break. Why was he always the weak link? Where had that thought come form?

"Not much of a show," Darhk commented acerbically, as if he could hear Ray's thoughts. "Merlyn, do you want to take the other end, spice things up a bit?"

Malcolm made a non-committal noise. Ray couldn't see either of them past Mick, but he thought he heard one of them take a step forward.

"You said I got first dibs," Mick growled. He froze mid thrust, and didn't turn, but his hold on Ray's hair loosened a fraction.

"Yes, but this is boring," Darhk whined, which made Malcolm laugh. The sound chilled Ray to his bones, and he shivered. Mick petted his hair absently, like he didn't even realize he was doing it, and somehow that calmed Ray.

"Fine." Mick pulled out, tousling Ray's hair as he did. He strode for a moment, his saliva-slicked cock inches form Ray's nose.

Ray panted, trying to swallow back his panic. What was Mick going to do to him now? He'd almost gotten used to the face fucking, but apparently that wasn't interesting enough for the men watching him. His rape was boring. He licked his lips and whispered, "Please," though he knew it wouldn't do any good.

Mick grunted again, like he had at the sudden pleasure of Ray choking around him. Then he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. Ray didn't even have time to protest before Mick looped it between his teeth and yanked it into a tight knot behind Ray's head. Ray tried to protest, but the cotton in his mouth held his tongue down, and he couldn't get out any sound past inarticulate grunts. The gag tasted of perspiration and gunpowder, and something familiar Ray couldn't pin down. 

"Keep him from whining," Mick grumbled. He stepped away, out of Ray's line of sight, and now Ray could see the men watching him. Darhk and Malcolm were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the big desk, and Mr. Thawne hovered near the wall, something black shimmering through the glass behind him. All of their attention was fixed on Ray and Mick, and Ray couldn't see from this far, but from the spread of Darhk's hand on his thigh, he was getting off on it. Ray flinched at the sudden feel of Mick's gloved hand on his ass. It patted one cheek proprietary before commenting, "Don't want to rub the skin off my dick."

One of the young women tossed him a package and Ray heard it slap into Mick's hand. He didn't know if he wanted to see what was going on behind him or not. Mick's hand still rested on Ray's ass, and the gag dug into the corners of his mouth, already soaked through with drool. He could feel the heat of the eyes of all the men in the room on him, and he just wanted to curl in on himself until he vanished. Ray closed his eyes.

The feel of two blunt fingers shoving into his ass shocked them open again. Ray cried out, the gag taking all the sense out of his words. He hadn't meant to make a sound, but even just two fingers made his ass burn at the stretch, and no one had ever touched him there. Some kind of self-preserving instinct kicked in, and Ray tried to squirm away from the fingers penetrating him, but the bonds on his thighs and ankles held him tightly to the bench. He was helpless, spread wide open for Mick to finger fuck and presumably actually fuck for as long as he wanted. Ray tried to clench down and push Mick out that way, but Mick just shoved further in, making Ray cry out again.

"Better relax, Haircut," Mick commented. He didn't sound especially invested in what Ray did. In fact, he sounded more like he was commenting on the weather.

Ray took a few deep breaths and tried, but he couldn't make himself do it. It was too much, especially with everyone watching him. Mick's fingers sawed in and out of him; the sensation of being invaded wiped out every other thought Ray could possibly have. He wanted it to stop, wanted no one to ever touch him again.

"You're too kind," Snart commented from somewhere outside of Ray's field of vision. "You should just fuck him and get it over with. I don't intend to stay for the rest of the show."

Mick's fingers spread inside Ray, forcing more room. He was trying to rearrange Ray's body into the shape he wanted, the one that would make it easier for Mick to use. Ray whimpered. "Come on," Mick muttered. "You know how to do this."

How? Ray had never been fucked before, and Mick had no way of knowing one way or another either. He made an indignant grunt, which reminded him he wasn't breathing, so he pulled in a lungful of air around the gag and then let it out, then did that again. His head spun a little less, and he tried to take stock. The gloved hand on his hip felt familiar, and once his head settled a little, so did the fingers in his ass. Ray took another breath and made himself relax, just a little. Whatever Mick did to him was going to hurt, he knew that, but if he stopped fighting he might have a chance to survive. He didn't know what the point of that would be when the others were just going to take their turns, but he couldn't make himself give up.

"Good boy," Mick said, and pulled his fingers out. There was a rustle of plastic, and a pause.

Ray told himself not to tense up again, but the fear wouldn't leave him. He'd just had that cock in his mouth, and it his jaw still ached from it. He wasn't prepared for it in his ass. He would never be prepared. The tip pressed against his hole and Ray squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to scream, but he knew he was going to. He was so pathetic. They were doing this to him because everyone could see how pathetic he was. Tears ran down his cheeks and mixed with the saliva soaking his gag.

Mick entered him, moving slowly and relentlessly. It was too much. It hurt. Ray cried out, a low hopeless sound that ripped out of his throat and frightened him, even though he was the one making it. How was this happening to him? The pressure and stretch blazed through his ass and up his spine. He couldn't even feel the bonds or the pain in his jaw, or the hand on his hip. The only thing he could feel was Mick forcing his cock deeper into Ray's ass. It stretched him too wide, and too fast no matter how slow Mick was going. Ray started to hyperventilate, but Mick didn't pause, just drove forward bit by bit as Ray cried out between gasps and tried to struggle under him. He jerked his limbs, tearing at the the bindings, but he couldn't get away.

"See, this is more like it," Darhk said.

"I have to admit I've been waiting years to see someone fuck that prick," Malcolm agreed. "I still say we should kill him after."

"After," Mr. Thawne agreed. "Or just keep him here for a few days, until we get tired of him."

Mick's thighs brushed against Ray's ass, and Ray let out a panting sob against the gag. His body didn't feel like his own any more; it felt like Mick had changed it into something else, something defiled for his lust and the other men's entertainment. The pain still burned up his spine and made it hard to breathe. Ray sucked in one shaky breath after another, trying to get a hold of himself, desperately ashamed to have broken down in front of everyone. Why was he always so weak? A strong man like Mick would silently endure, and not give everyone a show like this. Mick would be back talking about how bored he was. Even if Ray wasn't gagged, he wouldn't be able to say anything that wasn't begging for them to let him go.

Mick patted his hip with his gloved hand. "That's right," he said. "Let it happen."

Like Ray had a choice. He made an angry noise through the gag and twisted his hand enough to extend his middle finger. No one but the women saw it, but it made him feel a little better.

Until Mick pulled out of him just as slowly as he'd entered. His cock slid easily out of Ray's body. God, why were his movements so casual? How could he just stand here and fuck Ray like it meant nothing to him? Ray could hear Mick's breathing as he paused, almost entirely withdrawn from Ray's body, but he didn't sound upset, or even engaged in what he was doing. Mick's fingers tightening on Ray's hips was all the warning Ray got. Mick drove forward more quickly this time, and, oh God, it still hurt. The lube smoothed the movement, but Ray couldn't relax, and it felt like the first entry all over again, only sharper and faster. Was it going to be this bad all night? For days? Ray knew it would break him, that it was already breaking him.

Another cry ripped out his throat, high and trapped, the gag making it inarticulate. He didn't want to beg any more, he wanted to curse Mick, to use every bad word in every combination he could think of until Mick understood what his betrayal meant. Ray flipped him the bird with the other hand too, and heard Snart chuckle.

"You've got a feisty one there, Mick," he said.

"Yeah," Mick said, voice even lower and rougher than it had been before, "he always was."

How did Mick know that? Ray knew he was missing something, some reason this was happening. Would it be better if he knew? Mick's cock was all the way into him again, claiming Ray as his plaything, and everything still hurt. Ray couldn't imagine that knowing why would help at this point. This time Mick didn't pause, but drew out again, and then thrust in right away. He grunted, a woof of expelled breath as he entered Ray. Ray moaned at the same time. He ground his teeth against the gag, even though that made it stretch tighter and bite into the corners of his mouth. He wasn't going to cry out every time. He wasn't going to be a pathetic whimpering thing. Mick thrust into him, smacking Ray's hip as he did, and Ray cried out again anyway. It just hurt too much, not the physical pain alone, which seemed to be less now, but something deep in Ray's soul that he couldn't even understand. 

Mick was moving faster, driving into Ray with a steady beat. The others had fallen silent, and the only sounds in the room were Ray's whimpers, Mick's grunts, and the smack or Mick's thighs against Ray's ass. Ray kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the leering faces surrounding him, didn't want to imagine how he looked strapped down with his legs spread out, just a thing to be used by anyone who liked.

"What end are you going to take?" Darhk asked.

There was a pause while Malcolm considered, then he asked, "Am I next?"

"I thought we could do him at the same time," Darhk said. "Spirit of efficiency."

"Fine, his mouth then. There's not going to a lot of his ass left when Rory's done with him, and I don't like sloppy seconds."

Ray realized the gag in his mouth was probably the only reason they hadn't started in on him already, and felt oddly grateful to Mick, even if it was just delaying the inevitable.

This time when Mick drove into Ray, he leaned forward and grabbed a handful of Ray's hair, jerking his head up and back, displaying his tear-stained face to the room. So much for him being merciful. Ray grimaced around the gag and growled as best he could, but the yank of his hair pulling out of his scalp strand by strand brought fresh tears to his eyes. He tried to twist his head away, but that just made it hurt more, and everything hurt too much already. Mick tightened his grip and shook Ray's head slightly, like a dog with a chew toy. Ray could feel Mick's belt buckle digging into the small of Ray's back as Mick leaned forward, and the rustle of Mick's coat as Mick found something in his pocket. What was he doing now?

Ray flexed his ass around Mick's cock, still trying to come to terms with how he was being taken like this. Mick had penetrated him and now was resting inside Ray, fussing with something else, hardly even paying attention. The others were talking among themselves about various kinds of gags that would keep Ray from biting, and not really watching.

Something hard pushed up against Ray's skull, just behind his ear. Was Mick holding a gun to his head? Was he just going to shoot Ray right here, blow his brains out while he was still inside Ray? Maybe that would be a mercy, to just die here instead of enduring the rest of the night. Ray felt Mick's forearm flex as he pulled the trigger, and slumped forward against the hold on his hair. What did it matter?

It wasn't a bullet. Ray heard a high buzz, and the whole world turned blue for a moment. Then everything changed.

Ray was Ray Palmer tech genius. Ray was the Atom. Ray was being fucked by Mick Rory, his occasional lover who'd sold them all out to the Legion of Doom for reasons Ray really didn't understand. The Legion of Doom were watching him, and so were Sara and Amaya, who must have been brainwashed like Ray was. Ray had been brainwashed. Oh, God. He'd cleaned so many toilets. He could remember both his lives overlapping in his head like transparencies laid over top of each other. The Legion must have used the Spear of Destiny to do this to them.

Mick put whatever he'd hit Ray with back in his pocket, and let go of Ray's hair. Ray's head fell forward with a thud that drove his teeth into the gag. The impact snapped some clarity into Ray's thoughts. He snarled against the gag and tried again to yank free of the bonds.

Mick straightened and then started fucking Ray again. He'd fucked Ray before, Ray remembered now. For a few months, they'd had a thing, and then Mick had turned surly and withdrawn, and it had ended, but Ray had wanted it then. He'd wanted it right up until Mick had changed sides and joined Snart on his quest to rearrange the universe to put himself on top. He didn't want it now, but Mick was fucking him anyway. Ray had begged Mick to stop, not knowing what was happening or who he was, and Mick had raped him, was raping him.

Ray had loved Mick, maybe, and Mick had sold him out, joined his enemies, and now was publicly raping him to prove his loyalty to the goddamn Legion of Doom. When he was done, the rest of them were going to fuck Ray too, maybe for days. That was all Ray was any more. His suit was gone, his friends were brainwashed, and he was tied down for the amusement of his enemies.

Ray had tensed up all over again, and it hurt more when Mick thrust into him again, but Ray's involuntary whimpers of pain weren't slowing Mick down. He moved with brutal, almost mechanical efficiency, driving in and out of Ray like a piston, and made a small satisfied noise with every thrust

Mick was raping him. Ray struggled to wrap his mind around that. He'd loved Mick, and Mick was raping him. Ray's ass was stretched to near tearing around Mick's cock as Mick fucked him steadily and remorselessly. He had known that it was hurting Ray, and he hadn't cared. He'd known that Ray didn't want it, and he hadn't cared. For some perverse reason, he'd decided to restore Ray's memory in the middle of fucking him raw. Ray had no idea what he'd done that would make Mick hate him like that.

It was too much. Ray went limp. There was no point struggling. They would use him however they liked anyway. All Ray could do was lie there and endure. His cheek rested on the leather of the bench, and his body moved forward slightly with each of Mick's thrusts. Relaxing made it easier for Mick to fuck him, and he'd picked up the pace. His breathing sounded just like it did when they'd screwed around before, and Ray hated that he knew how long Mick would last based on the sounds he was making.

If they'd be doing this when Ray wanted it, Mick would be talking dirty by now, the sex making him unusually vocal. He would tell Ray that he felt good, and that Mick wanted him, that he thought about fucking him all the time. That had been as close as Mick every got to talking about what he felt, and Ray had loved that he was the one who Mick went to for that.

Now Mick grunted low in his throat and drove into Ray again and again. His fingers dug into Ray's hips, bruising them, and he'd gagged Ray so that he couldn't even talk back. His thrusts got shorter and faster, and his tone pitched up, more animal whines than grunts. Ray had used to like that Mick only made that sound for him. He'd used to want this. He realized that he was crying, and tried to squeeze his eyes shut to block the tears. His nose was dribbling, and he couldn't swallow past the gag. Mick must think he was a pathetic, weeping mess. Mick had probably always thought that about Ray.

Before, when Mick came, he'd say Ray's name sometimes, not "Haircut" or "Kid" or "Genius" but "Raymond." It had made Ray feel special, feel wanted. Now when his body stiffened behind Ray, and the thrust of his hips weakened into spasmodic jerks, Mick just hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. That was it. Ray wasn't even worth talking to any more.

Mick stayed that way for a moment, then pulled out without ceremony, and patted Ray's hip again. "Always was a good screw," he said casually. Sara tossed him a rag, and then Ray heard him zipping up and the clink of his belt buckle. That was it then. "Who's next?" Mick asked.

Ray kept his eyes closed. He heard Mick's footsteps moving towards Sara and Amaya, and the sound of boots hitting the ground as Darhk and Merlyn slid off the desk.

"Thawne?" Merlyn asked.

"No, no, you're a guest here," Thawne told them, tone mocking.

Darhk chuckled. The mood in the room had relaxed, the tension between Mick and the others gone. He'd proved his loyalty.

Ray stayed limp and quiescent. They were all going to get a turn, and he couldn't do anything about it. They might leave him tied up and use him until they got bored, Thawne had said. At least Snart had said he was leaving. Hopefully he'd take Mick with him. Somewhere deep inside, Ray didn't want to Mick to see this next part, despite everything he'd done.

Ray heard that buzz again, then once after that. The buzz the thing that Mick had hit him with had made.

"What the hell!" Sara said, and she sounded like Sara, not like Darhk's pet killer. Amaya made a sound like she'd been punched in the gut.

Ray opened his eyes, and saw Mick standing next to the women, holding a gun-shaped object that Ray now remembered making in a fugue state. He'd called it a trans-reality multiplexer. How had Mick gotten it?

For a single crystalline moment, everyone stared at each other, then Mick said, "Sara, if we want to go, we've got to go now," and instead of punching Mick in the face, Sara throw a knife at Merlyn at the same time as Amaya leaped at Darhk. Mick had his heat gun out, and was trying to tag Thawne, who was moving too fast. Snart wasn't doing anything, that Ray could tell, just watching the fight to see how it fell out. Ray didn't think the odds looked good, especially once Snart picked a side, but then the elevator door opened, and Rip Hunter burst in in a swirl of trenchcoat and gunshots.

Ray yanked against his bonds again, which didn't work any better that time. Mick dropped down next to him and pulled a knife. It sliced through the leather wrist cuff like butter. Ray wanted to punch Mick in the face so bad he could taste it, but he also wanted the rest of his limbs free, so he fumbled at the clasp on his collar as Mick efficiently sliced through the ties on his wrist and ankle. Neither of them said a word. It probably took thirty seconds, and then Mick was back in the fight, and Ray scrambled off the bench and onto the floor behind it. A used condom lay there, next to the rag, and Ray shivered again.

Ray wished he could dress, but his jumpsuit was somewhere in the trash and he didn't have time to look for it. He got the gag out anyway, dropping the sodden thing on the floor and flexing his jaw to loosen it. His legs were shaky and stiff, and his ass still hurt like hell, but he made himself crouch and look for a weapon.

Snart was still watching the fight with interest, and not watching Ray who was behind him and to the side. Ray crept forward, bare feet soundless, and got within a hairbreadth of the cold gun before Snart caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and whipped around. They both reached for the gun, but Snart had it first, and started to level it on Ray.

Mick came in out of nowhere and punched Snart so hard his head cracked back against the wall and he fell to the floor unconscious. Ray grabbed the cold gun and hit Thawne with it just as he was blurring towards Amaya. It held him long enough for Sara to nail him in the face with a stick, and then they were all five of them bundling into an elevator.

No one said anything to each other in the few minutes it took to get back to the _Waverider_. On board, Nate was there already, and he looked at Ray like he wanted to ask why he was naked, but Amaya shook her head and pulled him aside. They had bigger problems to worry about anyway. Sara took Ray's arm and pulled him towards the infirmary and Ray didn't resist. Mick was following Rip, and everyone was talking about the Spear, and there just wasn't time to deal with what had happened, even if Ray wanted to.

He definitely didn't want to deal with any of it. He let Sara put him into a hospital gown, and Gideon scan him and tell him he wasn't actually hurt, and then let her fix his strained muscles and bruises anyway. It didn't take long, and being back on the ship did a lot more towards making Ray feel better than losing the pain of minor injuries.

When it was done, Sara took his wrist and said, "Listen. We have the Spear, and Nate says he can figure out how to use it, even without the instructions. I'm going to let Amaya put things back the way they were. Any changes you want me to ask her to make?" She had a fierce look in her eyes, the look of Ta-er al-Sahfer, not the White Canary or the Captain of the _Waverider_ that Ray knew.

He understood what she was asking. "No," he said. "Just... just put everything back." He didn't know much about what was going on, but he knew he wasn't in any kind of shape to make choices about the make up of reality right now.

Sara squeezed his hand and nodded. She left Ray in the infirmary, and Gideon must have given him something, because he slept.

When he woke, Sara was sitting next to him, wearing ripped jeans and a white t-shirt instead of the black leather corset Darhk had put her in.

"Everyone okay?" Ray asked.

"Yeah." Sara explained how they'd reset the universe. Mick had remembered the incantation, and Amaya had wielded the Spear. The world was as it had been, with the dead dead, and Thawne finally consumed by the specter of time. The ship was parked in 2017. Rip was off trying to work out how to hide the Spear; Martin and Jax were visiting Lily; Nate was visiting his mom; Amaya was on the Bridge, and Mick was in the brig.

Ray almost asked why, then stopped himself. He remembered his other life still, the one full of failures and dirty toilets, though it was fading fast. Sara and Amaya doubtless remembered their lives as pet assassins under Darhk's control. They would remember what had happened to Ray. No, what Mick had done to Ray. "Do the others know why?" he asked.

"Rip does," Sara said. She had he concerned captain's face on again, not the assassin mask. "The others think it's for selling us out in the first place."

"Right," Ray said. That seemed so long again, with everything that had happened since. A whole life of betrayal to follow the first one, and then the violation at Mick's hands. Ray closed his eyes so he didn't have to see Sara's compassion. "He didn't..." Ray started then stopped again. Sara didn't have his answers. He remembered the Legion saying that they would kill Mick and fuck Ray on their own, or as well, if Mick didn't put on a show. He remembered Mick unconsciously petting Ray's hair to ease his distress. Even the gag had been a mercy in its own way. "I need to see him."

He expected Sara to protest, but she just took his elbow as he slid off the bed, and walked beside him all the way up to the _Waverider's_ single cell.

Mick sat slumped on the bench, staring at his ungloved hands. Ray remembered what Chronos had looked like in this cell, how he'd raged and mocked and boiled with defiance. Mick just looked like a dog who'd been beaten. He didn't look up when the door opened, but asked in a dull tone, "Come to kill me, Blondie?"

"You think I should?" Sara asked, before Ray could say anything.

"Figure I have it coming," Mick answered.

Sara elbowed Ray into silence and asked, "For joining the Legion?"

"For what I did to Raymond."

There was Ray's name again, the way only Mick said it. "Did you have a choice?" Ray blurted before Sara could stop him.

Mick's head snapped up. He hadn't expected to see Ray, then. He must have thought Sara was going to take care of him under a captain's prerogative, or that Ray would ask Sara to act on his behalf. Mick didn't answer for a long time, just stared at Ray with reddened eyes, mouth slack. He studied Ray as if he could find an answer in his face, and when it seemed like he couldn't, Mick looked back down at his hands and muttered, "Not that I could see. Stupid." His knuckles tightened until they turned white, and Ray knew that if Sara hadn't taken Mick's lighter, he'd be holding his hand over the flame. "I'm sorry, Ray," he said in the smallest, lowest voice Ray had ever heard him use.

Ray didn't know if he could fix any of this, not like Gideon could fix a cut or even replace a hand. He didn't even know if he should try. The Oculus was gone, and no one now could see the web of time spread out in front of them. Maybe whatever Ray did would just lead to more failure and betrayal, and it was all hopeless, and Ray was damned like he had been in the Legion's world. Or maybe Rip had been right in what he'd said last time Mick had been in this cell, and Ray would see that miracles did abound on this old time ship. They'd proved that enough times across the centuries. Mostly, Ray remembered what giving up felt like, when he'd thought that he had no friends and no hope of escape. He saw that look on Mick's face now, and his chest hurt. He made his decision.

"I'm sorry too, Mick," Ray said. Then he took a breathe and added, "Sara, let him out of there."


End file.
